Tangerine Consent

On a lighter note, my partner and I were recently driving somewhere, and I was feeding him a tangerine (as he was the one driving). We generally have good communication in our relationship, especially when it comes to consent, which we took to a silly level with the act of eating a tangerine.

Me: *tries to put a tangerine slice in his mouth*

Him: “I don’t consent to this. My silence is not consent.”

Me: “But your body language made it look like you were asking for it!”

Him: “Stop blaming the victim!”

Me: “Okay, I’m sorry. Do you want some tangerine now?”

Him: “Yes! Feed it to me! Feed it to me now!”

Me: “Wow, I love how enthusiastically you are in giving your consent. That makes me feel really great about this experience.”

Him: “Me too. It helps that neither of us is impaired right now, so we’re able to give our informed consent.”

Me: “Yeah, totally. Do you want some more?”

Him: “Okay, but be gentle with this one.”

Me: “Sure. I like it that you’re helping me understand your preferences.”

Him: “Are you having any?”

Me: “Whoa, cue performance anxiety. I’ll have some when I feel like it, is that okay? Will that detract from your enjoyment?”

Him: “That’s fine. We can each approach tangerine-eating in our own way, so long as we’re considerate of the other’s needs and desire.”

Me: “Totally.”

*we both laugh*

So yeah, we were being silly, but sometimes I need some silliness after I’ve been writing about sexual assault and serious stuff like that a lot. And I love the fact that my partner is versed enough in feminist and sex-positive concepts like consent (and enthusiastic consent) that we can use those concepts in jokes about very mundane things like eating in the car.

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